


trouble

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, cas is wearing booty shorts, hook up at a club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s still trying to recover from the laugh when the guy turns to him again, angling his whole body this time (and jesus christ, his thighs), and holds out his hand, “Castiel.” </p><p>He can feel his face scrunch up into some sort of ‘wtf kind of name is that’ look.</p><p>“Biblical,” Castiel informs him with a bright grin, not moving his hand away, “Cassiel, angel of Thursdays. My mom wanted a little flair, I guess.” </p><p>“Did I say that out loud?” Dean asks, blinking owlishly as he reaches out and shakes Cas’ hand.</p><p>It’s warm and huge and Cas’ fingers curl around his hand for a moment before they let go.</p><p>“Wow, you’re really fucking drunk,” Cas laughs quietly this time and sets his hand at the bottom of his shorts. They’re really short and an ugly ass neon color and they look like they might actually be on fire under the black light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trouble

**Author's Note:**

> **an anon on tumblr requested:** Can you please do either of the "You forgot to remove your snarky sticky note comments in this textbook.." Or "my asshole friends left me in this club.." Prompts for destiel/cockles? Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> dean's drunk, cas is also drunk. cas is out at a gay club with hannah and gabe; dean's there with andy and charlie. my fave bff's for them tbh. so... yeah. find me on tumblr @ meardmish \m/

Dean stumbles off the dance floor giggling and sweaty, riding on the high of what he just did.

A gay bar is like, way out of his comfort zone enough as it is but he definitely was just dancing with some random dude to shitty house music. And there was grinding.  _A lot of it_. 

“Dude,” he giggles again, drunk on more than the shots they did when they first got here, “Guess what?” 

He stumbles into the bar and pulls himself onto a stool, tapping the body next to him on their shoulder when they don’t turn around, “Andy, hey, I’m talking to you.” 

A guy in a ridiculous mesh shirt with a bright ass blue glitter covered shirt underneath it turns around and arches an eyebrow at Dean, “I think you’re talking to somebody named Andy, not me.” 

Dean blinks at the guy for a moment, his inebriated brain trying to catch up.

“You’re pretty,” he blurts out instead of an apology.

It is, apparently, the dude’s turn to blink for a moment before he blushes enough that Dean notices it under the blacklights and huffs a quiet, sheepish laugh, “Um...” He looks up at Dean for half a second before looking back down at his drink with a small grin, “Thank you?” 

“No, shit, you’re not pretty, I mean -” Dean groans a little bit before his eyes get ridiculously wide, “I mean - you’re - you are. Pretty. But I didn’t - I don’t -” 

The guy laughs, this time outright and his eyes crinkle at the corners. His smile is so big that you can see his gums and Dean feels his heart stutter for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” the guy flashes Dean a grin before flagging down the bartender and ordering them both a drink.

Dean’s still trying to recover from the laugh when the guy turns to him again, angling his whole body this time (and  _jesus christ_ , his thighs), and holds out his hand, “Castiel.” 

He can feel his face scrunch up into some sort of ‘wtf kind of name is that’ look.

“Biblical,” Castiel informs him with a bright grin, not moving his hand away, “Cassiel, angel of Thursdays. My mom wanted a little flair, I guess.” 

“Did I say that out loud?” Dean asks, blinking owlishly as he reaches out and shakes Cas’ hand.

It’s warm and  _huge_  and Cas’ fingers curl around his hand for a moment before they let go.

“Wow, you’re really fucking drunk,” Cas laughs quietly this time and sets his hand at the bottom of his shorts. They’re really short and an ugly ass neon color and they look like they might actually be on fire under the black light. 

The bartender drops off their drinks - water bottles?? - and Cas pushes one of them towards Dean with a small smile, “Drink.”

Dean does, because he’s not an idiot or an asshole (usually), “Are you my mom now?” 

“I certainly hope not,” Cas hums, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at the water bottle in his own hands. 

Dean watches him like he’s the most incredible thing in the world, because he might just be, and he’s impressively drunk. Something about his hands are mesmerizing to Dean - the way they move feels contradictory. 

He’s gentle in a way he doesn’t need to be and his fingers are long, the way he holds things makes it obvious how strong he actually is. 

“Like what you see?” Cas asks, bumping their knees together.

Dean blushes and laughs nervously, looking down at his lap, “Yeah.” 

Suddenly Cas is in his line of vision, smiling kindly at him, “Good. I do too.”

Dean’s answering grin makes him duck his head until his chin is tucked against his chest and he resists the urge to cover his face with his hands.

 _God_ , he’s so embarrassing when he’s drunk.

Cas, bless him, lets Dean have a moment to collect himself before he asks, “So, your friend. Andy. What’s he look like?” 

“Um,” he blinks in surprise at the question before letting out a breath, “Short-ish? Like... shorter than me. But I’m tall I guess so I don’t know, he might not be that short. Stoner. Wearing this god-awful tiedye shirt we made in like tenth grade with a vest on top of it. Because he’s an idiot.”

Castiel snorts and downs the last of martini in one gulp before looking at Dean again, “He left about half an hour ago.” 

Dean groans and rubs a hand over his face, “Was there a short redhead with him?” 

“Yup,” Cas pops the ‘p’ with a small grin.

“God damn it,” Dean groans again and lets his head fall against the bar for a moment.

If he wasn’t drunk he’d be more worried about the germs and shit and all the people and stuff that have probably touched this bar. But alas, here he is. He’s going to need so much Purell tomorrow morning. 

“Those assholes left me,” he whines just loud enough that Cas apparently hears him, judging by the giggle to his left. 

“If it makes you feel any better, they both got lucky like ten minutes after you went on the dance floor,” Cas offers and sets a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

Dean looks up at Cas and honest to god  _pouts_ , “How’s that supposed to make it better?”

“Because,” Cas hums and hops off his barstool, standing inordinately close to Dean, “You got lucky tonight too.” 

His eyes flash down to Dean’s lips for a moment, and Dean licks them out of habit, before he looks back up at the other man with a grin, “If you want, of course.” 

Dean’s mouth falls open in a legitimate gaping ‘o’ shape and he vaguely registers some sort of squeaking noise coming out of his mouth.

Castiel huffs a laugh and moves his hand to rest on Dean’s knee, his grin making his eyes crinkle at the corners again, “Did I break you?” 

“Uh,” he stutters for a second, resisting the urge to squirm closer to the other man, “No?” 

“So we’re good then, yeah?” Cas smiles, this time more kindly and less predatorily, “Green light for my hand on your knee?” 

“Dude,” Dean blinks, surprised that Cas is even asking. “You’ve got a green light to like... put your dick in me if you want.”

Apparently he’s a lot drunker than he thought because, welp. That happened.

Cas’ pupils dilate though, and he licks his lips and yeah yeah, okay, maybe that wasn’t as bad as Dean thought it would be.

“...Yeah?” Cas asks quietly, his eyes dark.

“Shit,” Dean breathes out a laugh and leans a little closer to Cas, setting a hand on his hip, “Cas, you got a green light to do that here. On this stool. In the middle of this gay ass club in your stupid ugly shorts that are proba - uMF -”

Cas is kissing him.

He’s kissing him and there’s a hand on the back of his neck and oh, okay, that’s a tongue and yeah, Dean can work with this. He can absolutely work with this.

“You’re good at this,” Dean mumbles against Cas’ mouth as he scoots off the barstool and lets Cas back him up against the bar counter. “You’re really good at this, this kissing thing, you should - mmm - you should do that -”

“Dean,” Cas murmurs and bites his bottom lip just hard enough that it hurts, “Shut up.” 

“Okay,” he nods dumbly before diving right back into the kiss. 

* * *

 

Hannah and Gabriel sigh, watching their younger brother basically ravage this random dude in the middle of a bar.

“Okay kiddo,” Gabriel slaps his hand on the bar and turns to look at Hannah, “Guess you’re the one calling him an Uber.” 

She scowls a little and takes a sip of her ridiculously fruity drink with literally, like, six umbrellas in it, “How is that my job?” 

“You’re his older sister,” he says like this explains everything.

“Yes,  _by five minutes_ ,” she emphasizes with a drunk pout, “And besides, you’re older than both of us.”

Gabriel looks over at Castiel again and groans, this time slamming both of his hands down onto the bar, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” 

Cas definitely has his hand in this dude’s pants. In the middle of a bar.

“HEY!” He squawks and tosses a pretzel at Cas, hitting the back of his head, “I AM NOT BAILING YOU OUT OF JAIL AGAIN.”

Hannah sighs dejectedly and pulls out her phone, “This is your fault.” 

“Shut up and just -” Gabriel’s eyes get a little big and he practically flies off of his stool to stop Cas from lifting this dude up onto the bar counter, “GET THEM OUT OF HERE.”

* * *

 

The next morning Dean wakes up in Cas’ bed with a face full of messy dark brown hair and an actual human furnace laying on top of him. It’s a little hard to breathe and he’s fairly certain they might actually be stuck together, but...

Dean smiles when Cas makes a displeased sleepy noise and burrows his face closer to his neck.

It’s a pretty nice way to wake up.


End file.
